The Crow: Restless Souls
by Wesley
Summary: When Dracula takes one of Buffy's friends, a certain feathered fiend makes sure to set the wrong things right. [B/X]
1. Part 1

TITLE:  The Crow: Restless Souls 1/?  
AUTHOR: Wesley   
FEEDBACK: Sure.   
DISTRIBUTION: Just drop me a line letting me know where it is.   
DISCLAIMER: I know nada and own even less.  
  
  
Xander once told me it was the little things in life that mattered most. The chirping of the birds, the scent of the air, or the sight of a child playing with carefree abandon in a sandbox. Xander always had a quiet type of intelligence, like his eyes had seen so much in so little time. Sometimes I thought the essence of the world had been burned into his mind, and he could peel back the facade reality presented to see things as they really are. It's one of the reasons I fell in love with him.   
  
Now, I lay here once again looking up into the golden eyes of a body that once held a wonderful man's love for me. I realize something I had hoped I would never have to go through again. The person I love was an evil vampire, hell bent on destroying me, and I was going to have to kill him. Only one word really rang out in my mind.  
  
*FUCK*  
  
It's the little things that count.  
  
It had started a little over a year ago, with the one Giles had referred to as the "Birth of Myth". Vladimir Tepes, also known as Dracula "the son of the Dragon". The most evil, cunning, and powerful of all vampires had finally decided to come to Sunnydale. Not even the Watchers Council knew if the legends of Vlad the Impaler were genuine, the majority passing it it off as Myth. They dismissed it as the prattling of a deranged Irishman, while some devoted their lives to finding the torturous bastard. The most anything could find on the guy was sketchy tales of a cult known as "The Order of the Dragon" and old wives-tales about the father of all vampires. Though, living on a hellmouth leads one to putting stock in old wives-tales.  
  
Of course his appearance led to another of those apocalyptic battles to save the world. It seems like I get into one of those things at least once a week. The battle had been fierce and bloody as expected, and the monster was slain in grand style. That however is another story for another time. Dracula was gone, but he left a small parting gift.  
  
The Beast had come for him. Unbeknownst to any of us, the Dark Prince had come to Xander in the night, a hypnotic trance on Anya granted him entrance to Xander's basement. Dracula drained poor Anya and embraced Xander, apparently his techniques of seduction aren't limited to the women of the world. I guess he saw Xander as the easiest of prey, I can see the irony of it now, because that is what we all thought of him.   
  
I don't know when I fell in love with him. Hell, I'm still not sure if I am in love with him, or if I just have the Love Jones for vampires who want to kill me. I mean I've even kissed Spike, but... that was a spell. Okay, I know I am babbling but you have to understand, I knew Xander loved me, and yet I wasn't attracted to him in "that way". I don't pretend to understand how love or attractions work, I just know that he was always there for me, loving me, but I couldn't return those feelings. Yet after he was turned I found myself looking back, and feelings emerged I never knew existed. I am definitely one messed up chick. Just call me freak-o-gal.  
  
After the battle our forces were left weak. Riley had lost a lot of blood, Willow and Tara both were pretty drained energy-wise and had lost a lot of blood themselves, and Giles looked like death warmed over. I myself had taken the heaviest brunt of the battle and had been pushed to my farthest limits, by no means prepared for what happened next.  
  
"Where's Xander?" Willow questioned.   
  
"I saw one of his horde toss Xander over those hedges. Must have been knocked un-bloody-conscious. I'll go fetch him." Giles returned.  
  
Giles moved over to the hedges he had mentions and called out for Xander. Worry overcame his face when Xander didn't answer. I remember looking over at him, and watching him raise his crossbow as he approached the shrubbery, and hearing him yelp. He had found Xander lying behind the hedges unconscious and went to help him.   
  
That's when Xander woke up to his new undead existence. He attacked Giles first, who had abandoned his crossbow to provide medical assistance, and in one swift move lifted him over his head and dropped him on his knee. Giles has been in a wheel chair ever since.  
  
But I'm not here to tell you a story, I'm not going to tell you about how Xander's hatred for vampires consumed his demonic counterpart. Or how Xander's twisted mind led him to become what he called the "Dark Messiah" as he attempted to turn the vampiric community into his own Draculian image. I'm not going to tell you how he topped even Angelus in his attempts to torture me and my friends, even started to call himself Alex Lucard. I definitely don't want to get into when Drusilla returned to seduce herself into his graces.   
  
I just wanted my final thoughts to be of him, not of the monster that stands before me with hungry glistening pink fangs, but of the man I never had the chance to love. I know I am going to die and that Buffy Anne Summers will no longer exist, but it doesn't matter. I have been through this all before and it nearly destroyed me, I am tired of fighting. Perhaps turning me so that he and my counterpart can be together forever will even out the cosmic scale of the many times I have hurt him. Maybe, just maybe, a part of me will finally be with him.  
  
He reaches out for me now, beckoning me with his hypnotic gold eyes. Alex is going to turn me, and make me as immortal as himself. He looks so happy, I want to weep for the joy it will bring him, and the death that is meant for me. He touches the side of my face as his lips grow near, so close I can feel the cold death of his breath embrace my veins. Alex's touch is gentle, cool, and familiar with his dagger like teeth so close to claiming their prize. I can almost feel happy about this, about being set free, but I am the Slayer and will never let myself be happy for a vampire. His teeth touch me and I expect the sharp pains of his kiss, but they don't come.  
  
All I hear is his cell phone ringing. 


	2. Part 2

TITLE:  The Crow: Restless Souls 2/?  
AUTHOR: Wesley  
FEEDBACK: Sure.   
DISTRIBUTION: Just drop me a line letting me know where it has been placed.  
DISCLAIMER: I know nada and own even less.  
  
  
The home of Rupert Giles;  
  
Sitting, sitting and reading. It's all I bloody well do anymore. I used to love reading, I would sit in the local coffee shop and read wonderful adventures of love, heroism, and courage; but not anymore. No, now I sit in this god forsaken chair all day, and the escapism the tomes once held have been bled dry. My passion has become my prison. It used to be a part of my job, no... a part of me, I loved it so much. Now its the only thing I can do, and I loathe it. All because of that bastard demon who took the body of my friend, my boy.  
  
My eyes have grown weary from the text and what's left of my body aches from worry. She spent months tracking him, trying to discover his daytime havens. Yet he was a brighter boy than we gave him credit for, and he knows our techniques. By the time we had created new search patterns and patrol schedules, the demon did something even Angelus had been reluctant to do. He invited the Slayer out to "play"  
  
It's the sound of crashing glass that brings me out of my reverie. I wheel myself slowly from the living room to the kitchen area. I can feel a slight breeze touch my face as I round the corner. I pray that it is a stray ball from one of the children in the complex, though not that many children play stick-ball in the middle of the night. Surely enough, the kitchen door is standing open and the window smashed in. I sigh at the sight. My luck, a burglar has chosen my flat to pinch.  
  
"Whoever you are, please just take what you want and get the hell out of my home." I say in a weak voice.  
  
That's when I hear a sound that chills me to my very bones.   
  
"G... Giles."  
  
The sound is so soft, so frightened. I know the voice, without a second thought I know it is him. I turn the chair slowly, my heart racing at what I might find. He stands there, naked and shivering, dark streaks of long black hair matting his face, and an odd black bird perched casually on his shoulder. It's Xander, and my heart is stuck in my throat.   
  
"What do you want here?" I demand, failing to conceal the fear in my voice.  
  
"Giles?" His voice is like a child just learning to talk.  
  
The shaky edge of his voice eases my fear, which allows for the fact that he is standing in my house, uninvited, to sink in. Then I notice, in the nakedness I have been trying to avoid, that his skin is a warm pink, not the pale cream of a vampire. He looks fresh out of the fires of hell.  
  
"Who are you?" I ask in confusion.  
  
"X....X... ander." He states as he collapses to his knees. "Please... Help... Me..."  
  
His plea strikes me hard. I can feel my heart strings tearing, and against my better judgment I wheel over to him. He is sitting there like a child, rocking back and forth while clutching his head and mumbling inaudibly to himself. I reach out my hand to comfort him, and draw it back from a snake's bite when he screams at my touch.   
  
  
It's like living fire burning through my veins. I've stumbled most the way here, not evening knowing where "here" is and I'm begging this strange man for help. A man I can only remember as "Giles". A man I know I should know, but right now its like trying to think through a bowl full of Jello.  
  
Then he touches me, and the fire in my veins explode. A million and one different memories all fighting in my mind. My life. Its all so clear in a matter of moments, from the first time my father held me in his arms, to the first time his drunken fist smashed into my face. The first time I saw a blond-headed goddess, and the first time she broke my heart. Images of a dark haired woman, a Slayer, laying dead at the hands of a demon with my face, to that of a madwoman dancing in the moonlight. All the things that had existed in me, touched by Giles, and those around him, danced in my head.  
  
The scream is out of my lungs before I realize its on my lips, I scramble away from him, fearing what more his touch might show me. I clutch my head, as this damned heavy bird is running its beak up and down my cheek bone. Somehow, I find its actions comforting.  
  
"Where's Buffy?" My voice resonates with the sound of the grave as I speak.  
  
"Xander? My god can that really be you?" He asks, his voice gives away his confusion.  
  
"Where... is... Buffy?!"  
  
I can feel the startled expression on his face as he speaks. "She... She went to fight you... um... him."   
  
"She can't win this. I have to stop him." Even as I say it, I know its why I am here.   
  
The crooning of the crow at my side assures me of that. I turn away from him without another word. With an un-Xander-like grace I fling open the hall closet, I'm not sure how I know, but I its there. A trunk, filled with my former possessions. I guess my folks didn't care to keep any momentoes of me after my... passing. I pull a pair of dark gray slacks and old work boots from the trunk, and grab a black trench off one of the hooks. A bit cliché I know, but it suits my mood.  
  
I feel the change of my face, as the crow caws, like one can feel a stretch of the legs. Its like an inky slick sliding down my face setting a devilish grin on my lips. I can sense that the warm pink of flesh is now a cream white. How do I know this? Haven't a clue.  
  
"By God Xander how have you come back to us." He asks me.  
  
"Guess you answered you're own question there." I shoot back, nonchalantly slipping on the trench.  
  
"Are you a ghost?" He pleads.  
  
I don't even look at him as I walk out the door. I pause only to say one last thing.   
  
"No my friend, I'm something far worse."   
  
And both me and my feathered friend are out the door.  



	3. Part 3

TITLE:  The Crow: Restless Souls 3/?  
AUTHOR: Wesley   
FEEDBACK: Sure.   
DISTRIBUTION: Just drop me a line letting me know where it has been placed.  
DISCLAIMER: I know nada and own even less.  
  
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN? IT'S GONE!?" He screamed into his cell phone.  
  
"Not gone sir, destroyed. The alarms went off about half an hour ago. We haven't been able to contact your cell phone, you must have been in a non-serviced area. I told you we should go digital sir." The lackey's voice echoed through the phone.  
  
"I don't have time for a technology seminar right now! What happened to the orb, Ren?" Alex fumed.  
  
"We don't know sir. Vincent looked in on the object, it appears to have shattered. The safe was blown out and your desk was pretty badly burned sir, I think we may have to scrap it. There was a black outline of a cro..."  
  
"I DON'T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT THE DESK YOU IDIOT! YOU FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENED TO MY ORB OF THESULAH OR I WILL FEAST ON YOUR UNBEATING HEART!"  
He growled.  
  
"Yes sir, of course sir!"  
  
Lucard closed the phone with such force that it crumbled in his hand. Incessant rage coursed through his veins, the orb was the key to everything he had so carefully planned. He was further infuriated at the sound of chuckling from the floor of the warehouse.  
  
"Orb of Thesulah. Now why oh why would you need one of those." Buffy asked halfheartedly.  
  
"Ooooooooh," Alex started, "is this the part where the villain reveals his ingenious plan to the heroine. I think not my dear, this is not a James Bond movie."   
  
"'My dear'? For this not to be a cheesy Bond movie, you sure have the dialogue down." Buffy shot back as she wiped a small drip of blood from her lip.  
  
"Mmmmmmmmm, little slayer's gone and burst at the seems. Not to long and we'll sew her back up. Isn't that right Miss Edith?" Dru asked her dolly.  
  
"That's right Dru, we will." Alex smiled.  
  
"If the little birdie doesn't poop on our plans first." Dru said through quirked lips.  
  
"Birdie darling?"  
  
Buffy, at the end of her own rope, started giggling like a mad woman.   
  
"And what do you find so amusing?" Alex all but screamed.  
  
"Ahhhh, Xander, Xander, Xander. She is fucking nuts!" She said through cackles. Buffy smiled up at he vampire as he sneered at her.  
  
"My name is ALEX LUCARD! You would do well to remember that slayer, it is the last name you will ever know!" Lucard howled.  
  
The beating of wings filled the air with melodic thunder. A large black bird swept from the rafters, grazing the heads of the horde.  
  
"I always liked Xander better." echoed a voice through the warehouse. "And she's right you know, we really did watch to many cheesy movies."  
  
"Who's there!?" called out Alex.  
  
"Daddy's light has come out of its glass shell, riding on the wings of that black beast." Dru screeched.  
  
"You even took your name from a cheesy vampire television show. A. Lucard? Oh yeah that's SO original." called out the gravely phantom voice.  
  
"Who dares to insult me? Show yourself coward" The vampire cried out.  
  
Suddenly from the rafters an eerie light magically flowed from the darkness. The figure hung from the middle on his elbows, clutched to two "v" shaped rafters. The ghostly light surrounded its figure like a spot light. The thing let black tangles of hair fall from its face, revealing familiar features covered in impossible shadows. The black trench coat billowed back from the naked pink flesh beneath and flailed like wings behind him.  
  
"Who are you?" an enraged Alex demanded.  
  
"Why this little ol' soul? Just an old friend. But you can call me... VENGANCE!" The figure leapt from the rafters falling like an angel.  
  
The stranger flipped gracefully in the air as he fell. He let his momentum carry him to the ground and outstretched his arms before him. He looked like a praying child as he sat looking at them with a grin on his indistinguishable features.   
  
"Okay... so that was a little cheesy too. Old habits and all that."  
  
"Kill him." Alex command wearily.  
  
"Don't worry boss, I'll take care of this," said a big and burly vampire as he sloughed off his human disguise. It was an exercise in futility though as he was thrown back by the clap of a shotgun.  
  
"What the ..." another vampire was cut off by a decapitation from another thunderous round.  
  
"You shouldn't interrupt a maniac when he's making his entrance. Its just plain rude." The man said through an insane grin as he pumped another round into the shotgun. "Now where was I?"  
  
The stranger smiled maniacally at the vampire and laid the weapon over his folded arms, cradling it like a baby.  
  
"About to die." snarled Lucard after his patience had ran dry.  
  
"Oh my friend, We've been there, done that, and even got a nifty T-shirt." The stranger laughed. The mystical cloak that shrouded the mystery man's face slowly lifted revealing the smooth yet chiseled features of the man that stood in front of him.  
  
"Xander?!" Buffy screamed in shocked confusion.  
  
"No it can't be..." sputtered the vampire at the replica of his own face.  
  
"That's right bucko, its the face you can't see in the mirror every night." Xander quipped.  
  
"How?" Buffy whispered from the floor.  
  
"I think our friend Mr. Lucard might be able to answer that," Xander started, "oh come now Alex. I can see the little wheels turning in that dead head of yours. We never were the brightest, but I'm sure you can put this together."  
  
Lucard's narrowed eyes reflected his deep thoughts. "The orb... it's impossible!!" he shouted.  
  
Xander could only laugh at that. "This is the Hellmouth Alex. Crazy, wacky, and impossible run rampant here."  
  
"The orb?" Buffy whispered.  
  
"Ding ding ding! We have a winner. That's right ladies and gentlemen The Orb of Thesulah is the answer, but what is the question?" Xander asked in a weak imitation of a game show host.  
  
"How did you come back Xander?" Buffy asked in a dazed awe.  
  
"Shut up slayer!" Alex screamed, "Enough games. Dru darling, will you please take care of the Slayer while I handle our... guest."  
  
"Oooooooo Mummy gets to play with a new piece of porcelain. Wonder if she'll break." Drusilla cooed as she ran her hands over her lithe body.   
  
"Play with her if you want Dru, but I will be the one to bring her to our light. Do you understand me kitten?" Alex asked without taking his eyes from the man before him.  
  
"Yes Daddy. Don't play with yourself too long, Mummy wants to see the Dolly with a set of fangs." Drusilla crooned.  
  
"Touch her and the wind will be carrying you to the ends of the earth." Xander growled.  
  
"Oh, so you do have a flair for the dramatics, imposture. Your head shall hang from my mantle after you have been drained." Alex sneered. He took a step toward himself and broke the reflection when he allowed his demonic visage to surface.  
  
Xander's laughter echoed through the high ceiling of the warehouse once again. "Oh no... its a vampire! I'm so scared." Xander mocked, "Hey Mr. Vampire-face... wanna see mine?" he asked through a cruel smile.  
  
Every occupant of the room's eyes went wide. Xander's pink face changed to a ghastly ghost white. His red lips became a charcoal black as the edges split into the devil's smile. His warm brown eyes sunk back into his head and left black pits around the edges. A drip of ashen blood streamed down each of his cheeks and unnaturally climbed his brow. They left eerie slash marks through his eyes. Slashes that ran the length of his face. A flutter of wings introduced his black feathered friends.   
  
"My God..." Buffy whispered.  
  
"I guess its not a good day to be a vampire, huh Alex?"  
  
  



	4. Part 4

TITLE:  The Crow: Restless Souls 4/?  
AUTHOR: Wesley  
FEEDBACK: Sure.   
DISTRIBUTION: Just drop me a line letting me know where it has been placed.  
DISCLAIMER: I know nada and own even less.  
  
  
A murder.  
  
The word is defined as 'The unlawful killing of one human being by another, especially with premeditated malice'. It's a word mortals use. The concept of murder is far to immature for hunters of the night such as myself. If you were to ask a lion why he murdered a gazelle he would more than likely give you a blank expression, just before crushing your skull in his fierce jaws. By mortal standards though, I suppose I have committed many murders.  
  
A murder is also the name given to a gathering of crows.  
  
What relevance does that have right now?  
  
Because I, Alex Lucard, am starring into the face of both.   
  
They are starring back at me now from a thousand and one sets of eyes. Eerie iridescent orbs peering out me from the darkness as the ghost's echoes die in the stale air. The drumming of their wings sound through the building like a hurricane and fills this vampire's dead heart with something... unknown. Fear... it's found a virgin and is delighting in the corruption.  
  
I feel myself take two shaky steps back, against my will, as I stare at the pale faced monster in front of me. He looks like a clown from Satan's circus. I really hate clowns.  
  
"What are they?" My voice is barely above a chocked cry.  
  
"Why, they are souls Dracs. Like me. Lights of the people you drowned in your darkness."   
  
The fear in my chest erupts as burning magma from my throat. "I am Alexander Lucard!" I scream out. The compulsion to affirm myself spits the words from my mouth. "Childe of Vladimir Dracula, Master of the Darkness! LORD OF ALL EVIL!! NO ONE CHALLENGES ME AND LIVES!!"  
  
"Oh, like we haven't all heard THAT one before." he taunts.  
  
He taunts? This poser dares to taunt me. ME?!! I am right, I AM the Childe of Dracula, and I shall not tolerate such insult any longer. Fear is for the weak, and I am sitting at the top of the fucking food chain.  
  
"Oh, for fuck's sake will you please kill him already, Tak!" I demand.   
  
I feel a malicious smile pulling across my face as my trump card sends a bit of lead death from the shadows. Unlike my... former self, I am always prepared. I lick my cold lips with glee when I see the pinhole above his heart. Its like a single tear, the drip of blood that flows down his pale chest.   
  
His charcoal eyes burn as if on fire, burning right through my own. His voice whispers out a one word death gasp. "Murderer."  
  
"I've been called worse." I say shrugging. I smile and let my human guise take my face and a slight chuckle echoing in my throat.  
  
Tak, is a nice and nasty bounty demon I, swayed, to my line of thinking. At least that's what I call him, his proper nomenclature is rather unpronounceable with a human tongue. They aren't very strong, or smart, and they smell pretty bad, but they are known for their deadly accuracy.  
  
I had Tak set up in the rafters on the far side of the warehouse with a Barret M82A1 sniper rifle. Should something unseemly happen, such as the Slayer getting the upper hand, he was to pull the trigger and put her down. I want the Slayer for my own, but I am no fool of pride to allow her to kill me in the process.  
  
"My god..." The blonde crumpled form says from the floor.  
  
"Yes... I am." I sneer at her. "You see Buffy, I have total control over your world. I decide the fate of all you hold dear Slayer. I have destroyed everything, and now I get to make you mine." The sheer joy from the broken look on her face rivals anything I have experienced thus far.  
  
"Murderer."    
  
The accusation from behind me comes so soft I believe it a fancy of the imagination. But then the crows resound together and toss out their horrible screeching caws. The sound slices through my bones, I feel ice in my dead veins and fire in my unbeating heart. Then it comes again, louder this time.  
  
"My oh my, the lead fire didn't send the birdie back to hell. Death in in the air lovely Lucard. Oh and it doesn't sup of blood, it wants only to wreak vengeance and dance in piles of dust." My little clairvoyant whines.  
  
"Murderer!"  
  
The cawing of the crows fills the air again, but this time they are accompanied by a rhythmic pounding. I look down and see the fist of a twice dead man slamming into the floor. This thing's punches are shattering the concrete like thin slivers of glass. The beats resonate with the birds demented calls, growing louder and stronger.  
  
"MURDERER!!!"  
  
The mingled sounds blow through my undead army like a shock wave. The force throws my fellows back on their asses, leaving them to lie like the corpses they are. I barely hear Tak falling from the rafters as his screeching throbs in my ears. The unearthly sound crescendos to a fevered pitch, and then silence.   
  
I wipe a small drip of blood from my nose and turn to my fallen men. They lay there, writhing in agony, their ears and eyes bleeding out. All of them are weak, but me and my Drusilla are strong. We will handle the miscreant and then cleanse this city.  
  
I turn my attention back to the hellacious clown with my best weary expression. "Be sure to... fire, Tak for his sloppiness Drusilla."  
  
"He didn't miss." A silent voice says.  
  
I watch him as he stands. He just took a high powered sniper round through the chest and should be sputtering up blood, gasping for breath, and dyeing. Painfully. Yet, he isn't even breathing heavy. Instead his movements are so graceful and fluid they would make a Russian ballet dancer envious.  
  
He moves his arms out once again and he pouts at me in mock crucifixion. Starring at me from behind those slash stained eyes, I see only vague impression of the Xander I can remember. The creature calls himself the boy my demon devoured. Murdered. But all I can see in this, thing, standing there is hatred, pain, and the need for vengeance.  
  
The garish smile etched on his features widens insanely but his stare burrows into my skull. I snarl at him of course, but can't help but look at what should be a torrent of blood flowing down his chest. It's something I shouldn't have done. Through all the things I have seen on the Hellmouth, in this incarnation or the last, I don't think I have ever experienced something so terror inducing.  
  
What should have been a mark of death and waterfall of blood was a backwards running river of rubies and flesh melting into wholeness. The sanguine stream returned to its embodiment and the pinhole of light passing through his body grew together in dizzying horror. But I snarled none the less.  
  
"MURDERED. ALL OF THEM. ERASED FROM EXISTENCE, BY THE HANDS OF A DEMON HOSTING MONSTROSITY!!" My reflection crowed. He spreads his arms wide and a consortium of the black birds gather on his arms. He looks like a a crucified scarecrow on crack. "They're souls Alex. Each one of them a victim of your malice. Anya, Faith, Willow, Jonathan, Megan Myers, Rachel Wilson, China Li, William Marksberry, and hundreds more."  
  
"They have brought me back..." His voice is low and sinister, I must say he has it down pat, "...they are hungry for the debt paid in their blood you son of a bitch. And I am here to collect."   
  
Then he leaps at me. 


End file.
